


Profiler, Profiled

by dralexreid



Series: Dr Piper Bishop [4]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dralexreid/pseuds/dralexreid
Summary: While visiting his family for his mother's birthday in Chicago, Morgan is accused by local police of murdering three young boys, and the BAU investigates to find the real killer and exonerate him. Meanwhile, Hotch begins to suspect that Morgan may be hiding more than his sealed juvenile record after questioning him.
Relationships: Dr Spencer Reid/Dr Piper Bishop
Series: Dr Piper Bishop [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972852
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Profiler, Profiled

JJ and Penelope were practically breathing down Spencer’s neck as the trio stared down the bottle top. “Nothing’s happening,” JJ said as the small canister fizzed from the bottom.

“Shhh, watch,” Spencer scolded excitedly, his voice sliding an octave higher and the trio kept watching until the canister exploded, shooting the bottom of the bottle high into the air and bouncing off Emily’s forehead. The ladies all laughed as Spencer melted into apologies.

“What was that?” Emily said, rubbing her forehead as she looked for the tiny projectile.

“Don’t you recognise a rocket when you see one?” Penelope said, failing to hold her laugh in.

“I was merely demonstrating a physics law, I-I didn’t mean to—”

“Ooh, show me,” Emily exclaimed, joining the ladies behind Spencer.

“Okay,” Spencer said as he rummaged for another canister. “Turn around, please.”

“Turn around?” Emily asked incredulously.

“Yeah, he’s not gonna show you how it’s done,” JJ sighed as Penelope listened and they both turned around.

“A magician doesn’t reveal his secrets,” Spencer said, waiting for Emily to turn.

“But I thought you said it was physics.”

“Physics magic,” Spencer smirked.

“Trust me,” Penelope said, tugging at Emily’s arm. “It will not do you any good to argue with him.” Spencer crushed a pill into a small powder before adding water, shaking it before putting the bottle down.

“All right, all right, turn back and observe,” Spencer announced, and the trio of ladies turned, watching the bottle carefully. The canister launched and the girls laughed until the bottle fell at Hotch’s feet as he walked into the room. Bending over, Aaron picked it up before examining it, glancing over at the literal children he had hired to find serial killers. Emily immediately turned around walking away to a filing cabinet. JJ and Penelope turned around, pretending to find something very interesting.

“Physics magic?” Aaron asked, walking over to return the bottle.

“Yes, sir,” Spencer said apologetically.

“Reid, we talked about this.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Aaron placed the empty bottle on Spencer’s damp desk.

“You’re really starting to get some distance on those,” he deadpanned before walking away to his office, leaving Spencer with a smile.

“So, he does have a sense of humour?” Emily asked, moving to her desk in front of Spencer.

“Sometimes,” Reid acknowledged.

“Where’s Bishop?” Emily asked, pointing to the empty desk next to Reid’s.

“That’s not her desk,” JJ answered uneasily, and Emily looked confused as she took her desk. “She only comes in when the team has a case.”

“She has her final field test today,” Penelope answered.

“Huh.” Emily nodded slowly. “So, what does she do when we don’t have a case?”

“Probably one of three things,” Spencer answered. “Field training, profiling classes—”

“Which she doesn’t need,” Penelope grumbled.

“Or she’s giving a guest lecture,” Spencer continued, and Emily nodded.

“And where’s Morgan?”

“Chicago. He goes there every year for his mother's birthday,” Spencer answered, wiping down his table.

* * *

Derek Morgan stood at the foot of a marked grave with an empty headstone, his head lowered, hands shoved into his pockets as the sun sent golden rays of sunlight glittering through the trees until his sister called out his name from near their car. Derek stepped away and the siblings drove a path home, stopping at a grocery store for his sister, Sarah.

Getting what they needed, Derek and Desiree stepped out of the store, a plastic bag swinging from Derek’s hand. “You're sure she's got enough butter?”

“You know if Sarah doesn't put it on the list, she doesn't need it,” Desiree reminded her older brother. “She doesn't make mistakes.” They turned the corner and a familiar, sneering voice filled the otherwise empty street.

“De-si-ree,” Rodney said, emphasising every syllable as he mentally undressed the woman. Derek took in the situation, his training kicking in as he raised a hand to protect his sister. 4 gangbangers, one large car, one behind him, two between them and her car. “Looking good. I mean, damn, you fillin' out all good in all the right places, aren't you?” Derek stepped forward in front of his sister.

“Step off, Rodney.” He turned to glance at Desiree, passing her the groceries. “Des, get in the car.”

“Come on, Derek, it's nothing.”

“I said, get in the car.”

“That's okay,” Rodney smirked. “Baby I'll get wit' you a little later, huh.”

“Yeah, in your dreams,” Desiree scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Ooh, most definitely. All night long, baby girl, huh.”

“You better step off before I make you wish you never walked up on me,” Derek warned him, stepping inside his sphere.

“What, you think you a bad-ass now because they pay you to wear that gun, Mr FBI.”

“Rodney, I proved a long time ago I don't need a gun to take you out.”

“Past history, that's a dangerous thing for you to count on, my friend,” Rodney sneered.

“Walk away,” Derek warned, and Rodney laughed.

“Des, I'll get at you a little later, huh,” he said, not taking his eyes off Derek.

“Go to hell,” Desiree said casually. Derek watched as Rodney took off, his bangers following him as they turned the corner, leaving the siblings alone.

“You alright?”

“Just a fool,” Desiree said, still keeping her arms crossed against her body.

“C’mon, I’m taking you home. There’s something I gotta do.”

* * *

Derek stood, leaning against his car as he watched the football game outside their community rec centre. A boy with a red shirt sprinted into a clear zone as the boy behind a crowd punted the ball over their heads, letting the redshirt catch it. “That's the man, James,” the coach yelled, his voice dry and hoarse. “Way to run a route. Okay, let's bring it in, boys. Get your helmets, let's go.” Derek watched the team coach bag equipment and waited for James to emerge from the centre.

“You pushed off on that last catch,” the boy yelled as James walked away.

“Man, you weren't close enough to push off of. I blew you away,” James called back.

“I could cover your ass all day long.”

“Man kiss it all day long,” James retorted, and the other boy dropped his duffel, pulling on James’s arm before shoving him. James pulled into a fighter’s stance, fists up and the other boy made to attack when a leather-covered blur pushed them apart.

“Hey, hey, knock it off.” Derek held out his arms, separating the two. He turned to James. “You did push off, James, on your second cut, with your inside hand.”

“Damn right,” the other boy exclaimed.

“Hey.” He turned to the other boy. “It's not the push-off that beat you, though. That's happening off the line.”

"Dude, who _are_ you?”

“What's up, Derek?” James asked, smiling smugly at the man.

“What's up, youngster? I see you're still shakin' and bakin'.”

“I get what I can,” James shrugged, and Derek grinned. “Damien, this is Derek Morgan,” he introduced.

“ _The_ Derek Morgan?” Damien asked incredulously, glancing the man up and down.

“ _FBI_ Derek Morgan,” James clarified proudly.

“Just Derek, brother,” Morgan said.

“Nice to meet you, man,” Damien said, holding his hand out. Derek gripped it before turning to see a car pull up onto the street. It was a brown station wagon, lined with a cream colour and it smoothly turned to make its way over to the boys. Derek pushed them away onto the curb, one hand moving to settle on his gun holstered to his waist. Music blasted from the radio station as the coach from the football game burst out of the centre with a baseball bat, hustling them away. Derek watched the coach grimly as the man turned around, heading into his centre.

* * *

Derek was sat in front of Sarah and his mom as Desiree floated in with a beautiful cream cake topped with candles and a flower as they started singing their version of happy birthday. Desiree pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek as they sang. “Did you make this yourself?” Mrs Morgan asked her little girl.

“Uh, Sarah helped me.”

“Momma, they wouldn't let me help so I don't know how good it's gonna taste,” Derek complained.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Sarah protested, holding up a finger at her little brother. “You remember that Christmas Fiasco of 1994?”

“I remember,” Derek’s mom pointed out.

“Whatever, that was 12 years ago,” Derek dismissed. “Let it go.”

“No, no, we still get cards from the fire department.”

“Momma, momma, you see how they treat your baby boy,” Derek complained.

“You be good to your brother,” she scolded both Derek’s sisters.

“Uh-huh, what she said.”

“No, no, no, you got the baby part right,” Sarah said smugly.

“Ok, you know what,” Derek grumbled, wiping his finger on the cake’s icing before lunging for his sister, fighting until Derek’s mom intervened. They settled down, laughing as Desiree told her mom to make a wish. For the first time all year, the house had filled to the brim with laughter. Desiree was forced to herd Sarah and Derek to the living room while their mom divided the cake between them. They ended up swapping stories of old fiascos and new friends until Sarah and Desiree fought over who got to give Mom their gift first. Fran Morgan broke the argument by telling Derek to go first. She unwrapped the pretty baby blue paper and unboxed the gift, revealing a small device inside.

“What is it?” She asked with a chuckle.

“Here,” Derek said, stretching his hand to take out the remote. “It’s a remote starter. You hit that button right there and it starts your car from inside the house.”

“Why would I do that?” Sarah laughed from her perch on the couch.

“So, it's nice and warm when you get in it.”

“Really?”

“No more cold cars in the winter, Mom.” Derek grinned.

“I would like one for Christmas,” Sarah piped up.

“Not for that bucket you drive,” Derek teased.

“Shut up,” Sarah said, shoving him playfully before walking away with Desiree, leaving the mother and son alone on the couch. Fran took her son’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it lovingly.

“We miss you around here, baby.”

“I know.”

“Your sisters wish you were around more.”

“You know the unit I work for is only out of Virginia, you know that.”

“Well...you're careful, right? I lost your dad, baby, I can't lose you.” Derek gripped his mother’s hand.

“You won't.”

“Good. 'Cause, you owe me some grandbabies.” Derek’s head collapsed onto his arm.

“Oh, c’mon Mom,” he said as the door knocked behind him. “Saved by the bell.”

“A bunch of them,” Fran called out as Derek made for the door.

“Oh, come on, Mom, stop.” He leaned through the door’s peephole, recognising the men behind it. He swung the door open, revealing the two detectives and uniformed officers standing behind them.

“Gordinski,” he greeted him.

“You armed?” the detective asked.

“Excuse me?” Derek asked.

“Are you wearing a gun?” Gordinski clarified.

“No, not right now.”

“Then turn around,” the other detective, Dennison asked, slipping out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. Derek snorted.

“This is some kind of sick joke, right?”

“Don't make us get physical,” Gordinski warned. “It'll only make it worse for your family. You're under arrest, Derek.” Fran, Sarah and Desiree watched as Derek relinquished himself, letting the detectives cuff him as he promised them everything would be okay.

* * *

Spencer had gone home. Penelope, Emily and JJ had decided to celebrate Piper finishing her exams. Jason was still working in the room next to Hotch’s when the latter’s landline rung. He raised the receiving end as someone named Gordinski from Chicago PD had just arrested his agent for a string of homicides. With the call ended, he started dialling each team member, calling them to meet on the jet in a half hour. They hadn’t received any case files, didn’t know why Derek had been arrested and Penelope was in outrage. JJ had calmed her down before the flight, but none of them could soothe Spencer or Piper’s restlessness. After all, Derek was like a brother to both of them, practically family. Piper couldn’t count the number of times Derek had had her back in the line of duty and Spencer could, which was ultimately worse. Hotch urged them all to keep calm and that Piper definitely couldn’t shoot Gordinski in the kneecaps despite any urge to do so. Spencer, Piper, JJ and Emily followed Aaron and Jason into the police station where Derek was being held for interrogation

“Special Agent Hotchner, FBI I'm looking for Detective...” He glanced down at his piece of paper. “Gordinski?” A detective from the back stood up, telling the receptionist that he’d handle this.

“How you guys doing. Wally Dennison, CPD.” He held his hand out to shake, but none of them responded.

“Where’s Agent Morgan?”

“Detective Gordinski's in with the suspect now.” Piper shared a look with Emily, as though they shared the same thought. _Derek Morgan, a suspect?_

“I need to see him.”

“When my partner’s done talking to—”

“I have your superintendent's personal cell number, and in the interest of not running roughshod over another police agency, I've resisted calling him so far. I need to see agent Morgan now.” In any other situation, Piper would’ve smirked at the way Detective Dennison backtracked to find his partner. But this wasn’t a normal situation. Dennison returned, this time with a large, burly detective wearing a blue tucked in button-up with a dark grey blazer.

“Detective Gordinski, CPD,” he introduced himself, stretching out a hand for Aaron to shake. Ignoring it, Aaron ploughed ahead.

“You think an FBI agent, a BAU profiler committed a homicide?”

“Actually, three homicides at least, over 15 years.”

“You—you think he’s a serial killer?” JJ asked outraged.

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?” Piper asked calmly.

“Has he been charged with anything?” Aaron asked.

“I got 72 hours to do that.”

“I’d like to see him,” Aaron said and Gordinski complied before addressing Gideon.

“Agent Gideon, right? I owe you a big thank you.”

“He has some nerve,” Piper muttered under her breath and JJ pressed a hand on Piper’s shoulder, as though any second she would jump the detective.

“I had no suspects at all until you looked over my case for me and sent me this profile,” Gordinski explained, passing him a file. “Everything in it points to that son of a bitch, Derek Morgan.” Piper breathed in deeply.

“I’m gonna knock his teeth out.”

“Later,” JJ whispered. “We’ve got to get Derek out of this first.”

“I profiled him?” Gideon murmured to himself.

“Detective, a profile's just a guide,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, this one guided me to him,” Gordinski retorted.

“Well, you are kind of insinuating that Agent Gideon prepared a profile for you and then ignored an alleged serial killer that he’s been working with for years,” Piper exclaimed.

“I’m telling you it’s him.” Piper pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Profiles are really more useful in the elimination of suspects rather than the inclusion,” Emily clarified.

“That's not the way you presented it to me.” The detective looked to Gideon who had turned around, passing the profile over to JJ who gave it to Piper.

“Well, if I confused you, I'm sorry,” Gideon apologised.

“I'm not confused at all,” Gordiski protested.

“Look, whatever it is in here that made you consider agent Morgan a suspect has to be a coincidence. You can't rely solely on this.”

“You're right, I'm not. 15 years ago, I was a new detective. One of my first cases was a black kid 12 or 13 years old, found strangled in a vacant lot near here. Boy was a John Doe, right. Still unidentified to this day.”

“Wait, a 12-year-old kid that no one reported missing,” Emily said questioningly. “Ever?”

“Four years ago, another body turns up, same MO. Worked that case just as hard, came up with just as much nothing. Nobody in the area had ever seen the kid before. Then a few months back, I attended a seminar that you taught at CPD Headquarters. I told you about my case, you said to send you the files and you'd look 'em over. This is the profile you worked up.”

He started reading it aloud. “There are about 3 million people in Chicago. Your profile said I was looking for a black male, 25 to 35, with a knowledge of the area. Nonthreatening to children—either knows them or is normal enough that he doesn't scare them. A probable criminal record. It also said the way the body was placed gently on a mattress, not just tossed on the ground, indicated someone who was probably consumed with guilt, especially for the first victim. Your exact words are: ‘With a guilt-ridden offender, the BAU postulates the first victim is the most important and the unsub may still visit the place of the crime or even the victim himself.’ Care to guess who visits my first victim every time he's in town.”

“It can’t just be visiting the victim,” Gideon protested. “It has to be more than that.”

“Sure. You said the unsub might try to inject himself into the investigation to keep tabs on it. Morgan has called our headquarters many times since he joined the Bureau. Always about this case.”

“All you're proving is that Derek cares about these kids," Piper fired. "That doesn’t make him a killer.”

“Yeah, well, after I got the profile, I checked airline records. Turns out Derek had just left Chicago when the other body turned up.”

“Yes, because he has a job in Quantico, Virginia,” JJ said. “This is all circumstantial.”

“You don’t have a motive either,” Piper added. “Why would Derek kill children when he dedicated his entire life to protect people?”

“That’s not my job, lady. Yesterday another kid turned up dead and the last person he was with was Derek Morgan. In the boy's pocket, we found one of his FBI business cards, his cell number written on the back of it. In fact, every time Morgan's in town, he hangs out with kids. Did I mention that Morgan found the body in 1991 hidden way back in a vacant lot? Now, don't you teach that when a body is hard to find, the person finding it is always a suspect?”

“There are key pieces of the profile that don't fit, Detective,” Spencer offered. “Uh, the age, 25 to 35, Morgan was 15 or so at the time.”

“Also says that age is the hardest to predict,” Gordinski dismissed. “And I should never exclude someone simply because of a discrepancy with the age.”

“That discrepancy is generally limited to 5 years under the minimum,” Piper said exasperated. “If a 15-year-old were to kill another boy his own age, he wouldn’t have enough empathy or guilt to then visit the victim every year.”

“Besides, if your theory’s right, what’s the point of the time gap?” Emily added. “You’re telling us that he killed one kid in 1991, the next in 2002, and then 4 years later, he kills another one.”

“You’d have a better chance convincing a jury that this is three separate murders,” Piper scoffed.

“And what about the speculation that since he didn't manage to leave any evidence at the scene of the crime, he most likely has a criminal record or previous law enforcement knowledge? Derek wasn't even in the bureau yet when the first body was found.”

“He may not have had a knowledge of law enforcement, but Derek Morgan definitely had a criminal record.”

* * *

Hotch was seated in front of Derek, leaning on his elbows as Dennison stood behind him. “Tell me the story. From the beginning.”

“I—I guess it starts when I was 15. I was coming home from football practice one day. Me and my boy, we were goofing off, you know, we were throwing a football around. The only person that I'd ever seen dead before that was my father when I was ten. I mean, there I was, I was looking at this kid and he was my own age, Hotch. Dead in this vacant lot. And he was never identified. Nobody knew who he was, nobody ever even reported him missing. And that, that just didn't sit right with me. So, I—I felt responsible for him, I mean, I was the one that found him, right I went around the neighbourhood, door to door, trying to start a collection, and... eventually, I got enough so I could bury him, and... I gave him a little headstone.”

“And you still visit him.”

“Hotch, I go see this kid every time I'm home. I just feel like he deserves to have somebody look in on him.”

“Gordinski must read that as a guilty conscience, a killer revisiting his victim. But that can't be the only reason he suspects you.”

“Believe me, that guy's had it in for me my entire life.”

“He's supremely confident that you're his killer,” Hotch countered, rising from his seat to join the others outside. The team congregated outside the station in the chilly Chicago air.

“We’re dealing with a desperate detective here,” Jason told them. “Three dead boys, no evidence at all, so he applies the profile directly to someone he already suspected. It's easy to get tunnel vision that way.”

“One begins to twist facts to suit theories instead of theories to suit facts,” Spencer quoted, making Piper look up, humour in her eyes.

“Sherlock Holmes,” she said, smiling grudgingly. “He’s clearly grasping at straws here.”

“We need to figure out who really killed these boys before they decide to charge Morgan,” Aaron murmured to them quietly.

“What do you want us to do?” Emily asked.

“The last victim was someone Morgan was seen with,” Jason said quietly. “Conveniently, Morgan was already a suspect in the other two.”

“Someone set him up?” Emily asked.

“We should consider Morgan a victim. Prentiss, you, Bishop and Reid talk to his family, learn about him—especially around the time of the first murder.”

“Do we have the address?” Piper asked, passing Emily her coat.

“I can take you,” Detective Dennison offered. Emily made to refuse politely but Gideon interrupted, saying it wasn’t a bad idea.

“I want to talk to Derek,” Piper voiced concernedly. Aaron shared a look with Gideon. “Hotch, I need to see him. Give me 5 minutes to talk to him and I’ll join Emily with the family.”

“Okay,” Gideon said. “Take these, see if you can find something.” Piper nodded, sidling past them to find Derek.

* * *

An officer let her in, closing the door behind her. Derek turned from his lean against the window, tilting his head as he glanced at Piper.

“Seriously, Derek. Three murders?” Piper said, trying to seem cheerful, placing the records on the table. “I let you out of my sight for 24 hours…” she trailed off, biting her lip, unable to fake it. Derek sighed. “This is a hot mess, Der…and I’ve seen Garcia drunk.” She finally earned a dry chuckle from him.

“How’s she taking it?”

“Not great,” Piper sighed. “I’m just glad she’s in DC, not here cracking skulls P.G. style.”

“I’d pay to see that.” Piper snorted, perching on the table.

“You have a criminal record.” She handed the file over to him. “It doesn’t look good.”

“Bishop, I didn’t do this,” he said, softly, pleading for her to believe him.

“I know. Look, I don’t really care about juvenile assault charges. But you can’t hide stuff like this when you’ve been arrested for homicide.”

“How’d you get these?”

“Gordinski,” she said, confused by his outrage.

“Piper, these were meant to be expunged,” he said, waving the papers violently. “A judge expunged these.”

“Okay, but Derek, aggravated battery doesn’t look good on someone Gordinski’s convinced is a serial killer.”

“Look, I was with some guys, we got in a fight with some other guys. Rodney, this cat I forgot to tell you about, it was him. We got into it a little bit, we knocked each other around, he got a couple of stitches in his head, so they made it aggravated. That's it.”

“You think Rodney’s framing you?” Piper said, perching on the table.

“I’m saying he’s been following me around all day.”

“And he knows about these? It’s kind of a trivial thing to…” Piper trailed off, biting her lip in thought before checking her watch. “I have to go. Um, listen, there are a few things you should know. Gideon asked Garcia to look into your history.” Derek backed away from her.

“Is Hotch back there? Is that what this is? You think I did this?”

“We think someone set you up and we don’t know why.”

“I didn’t do this,” Derek yelled at her and she froze, standing up straight. “I am not worried about Gordinski out there.”

“There are three dead kids out there, Derek,” she said quietly.

“Okay, okay, so you profile them. That's the case.”

“Look at you, Derek. You’re meant to be on the other side of the glass, not in here, not like that. We are trying to fix this, and you know how we do things.”

“Bishop, I don't need the people I work with going into my entire world.” Piper locked eyes with him, her eyes softening in understanding. She left the records on the table, leaving and letting the door close softly behind her as Derek collapsed into his seat.

Jason and Aaron stood alone in the workspace, glancing over documents and photos as Piper walked in. “He say anything?” Piper nodded.

“Derek’s world is like a snow globe,” she managed, taking a seat on the table. Gideon sighed and Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s constructed this world around him. This perfect world with his sisters and his mom and us. Gordinski’s starting to shake it, but if we push this any harder, the snow globe is going to fall and break.”

“Bishop, what is your point?” Aaron said, exasperated.

“I’m saying if we dig any deeper, we might find something that might be better left in the dark.”

“So, Gordinski’s right?” Piper sighed deeply at Gideon’s question.

“No, it’s not anything he did, it’s something that happened to him. Something he doesn’t want us to find out.” Aaron left to go talk to him and Gideon gave her Derek’s address. She grabbed her coat, keys and helmet, leaving immediately, wanting to put as many miles as possible between her and the station behind her.

* * *

Pulling up outside the house, she rang the doorbell and it swung open immediately, revealing a young woman with the skin of ebony and straight hair. “You must be Dr Bishop,” the woman said. “I’m Desiree. They said you’d be coming.” Piper waved sheepishly as Desiree let her in. She found Detective Dennison sitting morosely on the couch, Emily sitting in front of two women and Spencer standing next to a box eating…

“Is that cake?” Spencer glanced down at the plate in his hand.

“I like cake,” he said, shrugging.

“So, um, you’ve seen Derek, right?” Desiree asked, making her way to her sister’s side. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s okay. He might knock out Gordinski’s teeth after this, but uh, he’s okay.” Spencer watched Piper take a seat with pursed lips but turned his attention to the family.

“Did he tell you Gordinski's been harassing him since he was a kid?” Sarah asked bitterly, keeping an eye on Dennison and Piper realised the reason why he was sulking.

“Why's that?” Spencer asked between bites.

“You'd have to ask that bastard,” Sarah scoffed.

“Oh, Sarah,” Fran chastised exhaustedly.

“It's true, Mom,” she retorted.

“Sure, it is,” Dennison huffed from his seat.

“What are you even doing in my mother's house?” Sarah attacked him.

“They asked me,” he retorted.

“Not really,” Spencer said, shovelling another piece of cake until Piper grabbed it, setting it down on the table.

“We’re worried someone’s trying to set him up,” Emily said.

“But he’s with the FBI,” Desiree pleaded.

“Actually... law enforcement officials are just as probable statistically to commit a crime as anyone else. Look at the cross-section of society, there are a general population and a small fraction of this percentage—”

“He’s not saying we think Derek’s done this,” Emily interrupted.

“Oh, no, no, yeah, not at all I'm merely, um- speaking theoretically.” Sarah stared at Dr Reid and Desiree spoke first.

“You’re Dr Reid, right?” Spencer nodded and Fran smiled.

“Derek talks about you,” Sarah said wearily.

“He does?” Spencer asked, grinning.

“Like, complaining about him or—” Piper asked, teasingly.

“Anyway, so...” Emily redirected the conversation. “Someone may be trying to make it look like this was Derek.”

“But Derek loves kids,” Fran countered softly as Sarah nodded. “Every time he's here, he goes to the youth centre.”

“Youth centre?” Emily asked.

“The Upward Youth Centre,” Fran clarified.

“Does that have some sort of significance for him?” Spencer asked. Fran made to answer the young doctor’s question, but Sarah interrupted.

“Oh... are you saying there's something in it for him? Other than giving back to the poor kids of the neighbourhood.” Spencer looked at Piper and Emily helplessly.

“Sarah, we’re friends of your brother’s,” Emily clarified placatingly. “We're here trying to help. When we ask a question, it isn't to denigrate or demean anything he's done. We just have to know everything, so we can figure out where to look next. Is there some special significance to the youth centre?”

“The youth centre saved his life,” Fran answered. Piper had stopped listening, the wheels in her head churning and Spencer would be a poor profiler if he didn’t notice.

“Um, do you mind if we take a look at Derek’s room?” Sarah looked as though she was going to bite his head off like the cake that he was eating but Fran answered a quick yes. Spencer tapped Piper on the shoulder, and she followed him absently. Spencer slowly shut the door behind them, careful not to make a sound before turning to address her. She was pacing, her hand running through her hair that curled just around her ear.

“He’s lying to us,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to say anything downstairs but Derek’s hiding something. I—I just, why would he lie?” Her voice was quiet, making sure it wouldn’t carry downstairs.

“He’s always been protective of his past, Piper. I mean, he’s never told us much about his childhood or his family.”

“And that’s fine by me. He can keep his secrets. God knows we’re all keeping things from each other. But they’re accusing him of murder. I’m terrified for him, Spence.”

“We’re all scared of what could happen, but we know he hasn’t done anything wrong.” Piper exhaled deeply.

“You’re right, I’m stressing out,” she breathed, looking around the room. “It’s like we never even knew him.” Piper’s cell buzzed and she picked it up. “Garcia,” she told him, answering it.

“Hey, babe. You’ve got me and Spencer here. You find any good news?”

_“I feel terrible looking into his life like this.”_

“I know, honey. Just remember we’re trying to help him.”

_Right, okay. Graduated with honours from North-Western Law. Did you know he was a star football player?”_

“I know he played in high school,” Spencer offered.

“Yeah, quarterback.”

_“That’s the guy who throws the ball, right?”_

“Yep, sounds like Derek,” Piper scoffed.

 _“Full ride athletic scholarship.”_ Piper smiled grudgingly. “ _Sophomore year he severely injured his left knee and he never played again.”_

“Ouch,” Piper grimaced.

“Garcia, look further back, before college,” Spencer said.

_“Ok, um... wait. He was mentioned in the Chicago Register as... Body of a ch-child in a vacant lot in 1991.”_

“That's our first victim,” Spencer recognised.

_“He never told me about this.”_

“He never told any of us,” Piper sighed, running her hand through her hair again. “Is there a criminal history?”

_“Criminal?”_

“Garcia, is there a criminal history?”

_“Pipes, there's not gonna be a—There's a sealed file.”_

“Unseal it.”

_“But it's a sealed file.”_

“Garcia, helping him,” she reminded her.

_“Ah. Right. Helping him, helping him... That's a juvenile criminal record. It was expunged and sealed by a Judge Esposito after the presentation of a letter and testimonial from a local youth centre director. "Finest young man I've ever known…criminal record could jeopardize potential scholarship offers...stake my personal and professional reputation..." He was definitely a fan of our boy.”_

“Do we have a name?” Spencer asked.

_“Hang on a second. Yeah, Carl Buford.”_

“The youth centre saved his life,” Piper recalled, and Spencer opened the door, letting her go first before closing the door behind them as they went down the stairs and back into the living room while Emily continued with their questions.

“Was Derek ever in trouble as a kid?”

“After my husband, his father, died,” Fran answered slowly. “He was shot trying to stop a robbery. Derek was with him, he was ten. A year or so later, he started getting into trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Emily asked.

“He started running around with older kids. They would give him money to run errands for them. Not drugs,” she was quick to amend. “No, Derek would never disgrace his father's name.”

“But they were gangbangers. So, people started looking at Derek like he was one of them,” Sarah added.

“One night, he and a friend were attacked by some boys from another gang. Big fight. And one of the other boy's head split open,” Fran continued.

“And that was the first time Gordinski arrested him," Sarah said contemptuously. "Now, he wasn't a detective yet, just a street cop, but from that night on, no matter what happened in the neighbourhood, he'd pick Derek up for it.”

“Probably because he was involved,” Dennison scoffed, and Emily closed her eyes in frustration.

“The hell he was,” Sarah argued.

“Stan's never arrested anyone who didn't need arresting,” he said, standing up to defend his partner.

“He did with Derek.”

“Until Carl Buford stepped in.”

“Carl Buford?” Piper asked, glancing at Spencer confusedly.

“He runs a youth centre,” Dennison supplied.

“He took Derek under his wing. Mentored him. Became like a surrogate father. He taught him football and that changed Derek's life. He got a scholarship to college with it, he got his degree.”

“Where’s Carl Buford now?”

“Still at the youth centre.”

“I’d like to talk to him. Detective, do you think you could take me over there?”

“Just you?” Spencer asked, uncertain about whether he would survive by the end of it.

“Yeah, I thought maybe you could stay here and keep going through this stuff.”

“Good idea,” Spencer agreed quietly.

“Wait, the youth centre, is it on the way to the precinct? I should check back in with the others.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you,” Dennison agreed, and the ladies followed, leaving Spencer with a plate of cake and three women, one of which didn’t seem to particularly like him.

* * *

Piper entered the interrogation room, a paper bag in hand. She plopped it in front of Derek before pulling out two sliders and sodas. “Figured Gordinski didn’t give you anything to eat,” she said, pushing the wrapped burger and soda over to his side. “Gideon tell you about the profile?”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I wanna get you out of here and I can’t do that unless you help me find the guy who did this.” Derek violently unwrapped the food, the smell of it making him realise how hungry he’d been.

“What makes you think I know?”

“Because you’re smart. You know the profile and you know the community. Gordinski is dead-set on nailing you for these murders.” She pulled the three pictures side by side. “This isn’t a serial killer. The gap between them is too big.” Derek glanced over at her, swallowing his mouthful.

“So, then what is this?”

“I think it’s a cover-up. Just like this whole thing is,” she said, gesturing to the four walls they were eating in. “Your file was expunged, but someone who knew about it told Gordinski about it. Derek, you know this guy, and it isn’t Rodney.” Derek’s silence finally made her snap. “God, Derek, they’re accusing you of murder and you can’t trust your own team?”

“It’s not about trust, it’s about privacy,” Derek protested. “I got the right to keep something to myself. Look at us, man, we practically live together already.” Piper looked like a ghost, paling quickly as her cell buzzed. She answered.

“Yeah…No, Garcia said…Well, when’s the last time they saw each other?” Piper glanced over at Derek concernedly. “What’s the kid’s name? Yeah, I’ll let him know.” Piper slipped her cell into her pocket, poking her tongue against her cheek.

“What’s going on?”

“How close were you with Carl Buford?” Piper asked softly and Derek stood up, livid.

“Damn it, Bishop, I told you to stay out of it,” he yelled at her, but she stood there still as a statue.

“It’s either you deal with me or you deal with Hotch and you know he won’t go easy on you. What is your relationship with Carl Buford?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“He’s the one who testified for your records to be expunged, he’s the one who told Gordinski that you were the last one with Damien Walters and I need to know if he’s as perfect as his trophy room says he is.”

“I am warning you, Bishop, back off.”

“You’ve been sitting here for hours, Derek, and Gordinski isn’t going to just give up,” Piper said as Derek paced the room. “He’s going to nail you or die trying while more kids in this neighbourhood end up like this.” She jabbed at the pictures. “I am not your enemy here.” Derek looked over at her. “You know who’s doing this?” Derek glanced at the glass door.

“Do you trust me?” Piper scoffed at the question.

“You think I’d be here if I didn’t?”

“And no-one’s out there?” Piper shook her head. “I need your phone. When I’m in position, I’ll call Hotch’s number.” Piper looked at him and he waited for her answer.

“Do what you have to do,” she said, moving to open the door when she felt a sharp blow to the back of her head, and she crumpled to the floor.

* * *

Piper was seated on the table in the interrogation room, Spencer checking to see if she had a concussion. “He wouldn’t say anything about Buford. Refused to talk about him,” she said, sipping on her soda. “I got frustrated, told him off and made to leave. That’s when he hit me from behind.” Her voice was weak. He really had hit her very hard. Dennison was calling for an APB on Derek Morgan.

“Did he say where he was headed?” Jason asked.

“Nothing. He just said sorry and then I conked out.” She winced as Spencer pulled out a torch. “You’re not a medical doctor, you know that, right?”

“I can’t believe Morgan would just knock you out,” JJ said, in disbelief.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like we’re family, right?” she scoffed, wincing again. “Would you stop that?” She swatted away the torch, letting it clatter to the ground. “Hotch, can I borrow your phone?”

“Where’s yours?”

“Mine’s dead. I wanna call his sister, Sarah. She might know where he might have gone.”

“Let us know what you find,” Hotch said, passing it over to her. Piper sidled past them, pretending to storm outside of the precinct.

“Well, she’s angry,” Spencer said curiously.

“He took advantage of her trust," Emily argued. "Wouldn’t you be?”

* * *

She slipped into the shadows, her gun holstered to her waist, hidden by her long black coat. Her flimsy consultant badge slapped against her thigh. She was well aware of the risks. If Hotch found out, her application to become an agent could be rejected. She’d lose the consultancy. But catching Buford was worth it. Especially if it meant Derek didn’t have to feel so ashamed of it anymore.

He slipped out of the alcove he was hiding in as the police car slid out of view, running across a route he’d memorised as a kid. He was well aware of the risks too. They’d both risked their jobs and he’d spend the rest of his life making this up to Piper. She’d taken the leap to trust him, he wasn’t about to let her down, not when he didn’t do the same. Not that it would’ve done any good. The whole ‘he said, he said’ situation freaked him out. No-one would believe the word of a disgraced FBI agent to the great Carl Buford.

Piper figured she had about an hour until Hotch would discover she was missing too. With her ‘injury’ and the menial task she’d taken on, they’d be far more worried about where Derek had gone to notice the missing SUV. Even if they did notice, she could always say she’d decided to see the Morgans in person. But the fact that she was betraying his trust wasn’t lost on her. She was counting on her profile of the team to get there in time, not to hear the confession, but in time for the arrest. She knew at this point JJ would try to convince the local PD to tone down the manhunt. She’d realise there was no calming them down. Emily would start analysing everything his mom had said about Buford. How he’d mentored him, taking him on trips, been like a surrogate father to him. But in the end, Hotch would figure it out first, and he’d have the advantage of multiple routes, shortcuts and roadblocks. That’s when he’d get everyone into action mode, only to realise he wasn’t just one agent down. She turned a corner into an alley outside the youth centre, parked in the shadows. Hotch would look outside for her, wait 5 minutes, then borrow Gideon’s phone to call. She’d let the call go once and when they’d try again, would say she’d join them in a minute. He’d wait for 20. Then he’d move. She slipped out of the car, checking her holster as she waited for Derek’s call.

Derek emerged from the shadows and into the makeshift football patch, catching sight of James practising his weaving. “Lookin' good there, kid.”

“I was tryin' to call you.”

“I'm here now,” Derek shrugged, not wanting to tell the kid about his arrest. He bent down, picking up the football on the ground.

“Someone killed Damien.”

“I know.” Derek rolled the ball over in his hand, letting the familiar feel of it wash over him in comfort. “James, we need to talk about Carl Buford.” Derek threw the ball at him, his arm hitting a familiar motion, his muscles remembering years of training and sweat spent on the very dirt field he stood on, all the way to college with its green oval. James shrugged, just like Derek had moments ago.

“What about him?” He threw the ball back.

“You're a star player, right. Centre of attention,” Derek said, catching it easily before punting it back.

“Yeah, I guess.” James caught it again, smoothly throwing it over.

“You know, I used to be that guy,” Derek said, letting the ball glide through the air into James’s hands.

“Yeah, I know.” James threw the football back.

“It's a lot of pressure, isn't it?” Derek threw it over. “Always wanna make 'em happy.” James caught it, holding on the firm, rubber grooves. “Impress 'em.”

“I can handle it,” James grinned smugly, throwing the ball over again.

“Oh, I'm sure you can, kid,” Derek said, grinning widely. His smile faded as he remembered why he was here, not confronting Buford like their plan was meant to be. But he had to protect this kid. So, he bit the bullet. “Does he ever take you to his cabin?” The question made James freeze as he caught the ball.

“What?”

“Fishin' in Wisconsin, camping. Do things you wish you had a real father for.”

“Sometimes,” James admitted, throwing the ball again.

“Yeah, he's good like that,” Derek said quietly against the deep quiet of a regular Chicago night. He spun the ball in his hands.

“You know about the cabin.”

“James, I told you, I used to be you.” Derek threw the ball again.

“What do you mean?” Derek caught it, spinning the football in his hand as he stepped over to James. He didn’t have a lot of time left.

“The first time you weren't even sure what was goin' on. He brushed up against you. You thought it might have just been an accident. But then at the cabin, he let you sit and drink with him. You thought it was kinda cool. Made you feel grown. He gave you a glass of wine. Maybe a little shot of something harder. And then he took you swimming. Only he told you to jump in without your swimsuit on. He did things to you, James, didn't he? He did 'em to me, too. You do whatever you think you gotta do to keep him happy because he's the closest thing to a father you got. But what he's doin' to you is wrong. And you don't have to let it continue, man.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek pleaded.

“My oldest brother's in jail, my sister was paralysed in a drive-by, she's eight years old. I'm all my mom's got left. I gotta get us outta here. Carl's gonna make sure I get into college. Then I can make something of myself.”

“James, you are something, man. You're something right here, right now, without Carl Buford. You just gotta believe that. Where's Carl right now, huh? Look at you, man. You're out here in the dark running pass routes. That's you. That ain't got nothin' to do with Carl. What you got inside of here, that's what's gonna get you off these streets.”

“You never told.”

“Not until right now.”

“Damien always said I should call you.”

“What? Damien knew.”

“I didn't think you'd believe me.”

“James,” Derek said, putting as much sincerity as he could in his voice as he jabbed his chest with the ball softly. “I got your back. Forever.” And someone else lurking in an alleyway had his. And like hell, if he ever forgot it. He sent James home, telling him to go as fast as he could, to promise that he would make it without Carl Buford. And with that promise of the future, Derek Morgan pulled out Piper’s cell before leaving to confront his past.

Piper slunk out of the alleyway, without any SUVs in sight and she breathed in relief as she forged into the front of the youth centre. She glanced out the window, watching as two police cars pulled up, but they would wait for the FBI before breaking in. She crept out of sight as she heard Derek call out Carl’s name from inside the equipment room. As Carl stepped out, she pushed the door handle, silently sneaking in as she dialled Dennison’s number and muting the cell. She’s gotten it out of him before she left his car. “You've been let go,” Carl said, surprised.

“Looks that way.”

“I told 'em it was crazy, thinkin' you were involved in any killing.”

“Really. Gordinski said you're the one who told 'em I drove Damien home.”

“Was that supposed to be a secret?” Carl asked as Piper unholstered her gun, keeping low.

“No. _That_ wasn't.”

“I don't follow,” Carl said as Derek stepped forward.

“All these years, I kept my mouth shut. I let you go on being a hero. Carl Buford, my mentor.”

“What are you talkin' about?”

“God, I was so afraid of you. I was afraid of the police, afraid of losing everything I was gaining, all the people who put their faith in me. But that's how you work, isn't it? You make sure there's a hell of a lot to lose, don't you?”

“I don't know what you think you remember—"

“No, no, no. See, it's not what I remember that's gonna hurt you, Carl. Our business is over way too long ago to matter. You're protected by a statute of limitations and that's my fault,” Derek confessed.

“Then good night.”

“You set me up,” Derek spat at him. “You knew Damien Walters wanted James to call me about you. So, you killed him. You killed him because you knew I'd come after you, didn't you?”

“Now you're just talking crazy.”

“God, I should have told somebody about you when I was a kid. When you were helping me. Well, you know what happens in cases like this. Once that dam breaks, the flood comes. One kid steps up, just one,” Derek said, jabbing a finger at Carl. “And then another one, and another. Because they're not scared of you anymore. They know they're not alone. James Barfield is your dam.”

“Whatever lies James told you—"

“They're not lies!” Derek yelled and Piper stood, unflinching, her gun raised at Carl’s back. “You did the same thing to me.”

“I did nothing to you, or to James.”

“One by one, they're gonna pile up until there are so many accusations, you can't say that they're all lies.”

“Do you have any idea how many kids I've helped get out of this neighbourhood? Hmm. How many lives _I've_ provided? Look at you. You'd probably be dead by now.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn't for free, was it?”

“I pulled you out of the gutter.” That was the melting point, that was the peak and Derek let out all the pain, all the anger he’d ever felt. He let it all gush out of him with every vocal cord he had in his body.

“I pulled myself out of the gutter, all the way to the FBI! I did that,” he shouted at him.

“You sayin' I had nothin' to do with making you who you are.”

“No, Carl.” Derek looked like he would burst, and he felt that way too. “Actually, I'm saying you have everything to do with making me who I am. Because of you, I'm somebody who gets to spend the rest of this life making sure guys like you go down.”

“Look, Derek... I never hurt you. You could have said no.” Piper stepped out from behind the shadows, moving as quietly as she could, pulling out a set of handcuffs. Holstering her gun, she nodded at Derek before using her body to press Buford against the desk, snapping the metal cuffs around each wrist.

“You’re under arrest, Carl,” she said, her voice soft as always as Gordinski and his partner came in through the door. “You heard everything?”

“Crystal clear,” Dennison said as Gordinski took over Buford’s arrest.

“And nobody else?” Dennison shook his head.

“No-one. But I figure your boss is pretty angry with you.” Piper winced.

“Probably.” Piper and Derek watched as Buford was led away by the detectives. She saw Gideon and Hotch waiting outside the office, probably to suspend her or reprimand her. “I’m sorry,” she started. “If I pushed too far.” Derek glanced at the room they stood in. “And I swear, I won’t ask any questions if you don’t want me to.”

“You know, Piper, if it weren’t for you and this…whole…situation…I don’t think I’d have ever admitted what that guy did to me.” Derek scoffed.

“Well, for whatever it’s worth, that guy is a dick.” Derek snorted. “And he’s gonna have a rough time in jail. Which, you know, I’d say he deserves.” Piper licked her lips. “But he’s wrong. He didn’t make you who you are, Derek. That’s not how it works. We have trauma. And we can spend the rest of our lives drowning in that pain. Or we can rise above it. You were a fighter from day one, Derek Morgan. And that’s got nothing to do with that…I mean, should we call him a person at this point?” Piper asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You just…ruined a very beautiful moment,” Derek laughed.

“Yeah,” Piper winced. “I’m also about to ruin a very beautiful career.” She took in a deep breath and made to move out the door.

“Hey, Pipes.” She swivelled on her heel and smiled at Derek brilliantly.

“What’s up?” He held out his hand and a confused Piper took it, biting back a yelp as Derek pulled her, quite literally, into a hug.

“I owe you.”

“If you can keep my job safe, we’ll be even,” Piper joked, pulling away from him. But the humour hadn’t reached his eyes the way they usually did, folding into a little pocket of joy with crinkles around the corner of his eyes. “Derek, you’re like family. There’s no score, no favours. I’ve got your back. Always.” Derek nodded. “I really do have to go save my job though.” He chuckled.

“Go, Piper.” Piper left the main office as Spencer and Emily stood in the doorway. It seemed Gideon and Hotch had moved outside.

“How bad is it?” Piper asked Spencer.

“I think Hotch was emoting when he found out.” Piper gulped, turning to Emily.

“If I die, you get custody over my plants.” She made to head out before doubling back. “Tell my dad I hate him, and he has to give the eulogy. He’ll hate it.” Emily gripped her hands.

“Be brave.” Piper nodded, breathing in deeply. Emily started chuckling as soon as she left the hallway. “She’s so dramatic,” Emily laughed.

“And she’ll be grumpy when she finds out we lied, so, we should probably leave.”

“I’ll get the car. You get Derek.”

* * *

Chicago was chilly this time of year. December had hit them like a freight train. Piper shivered a little with the adrenaline wearing off, walking over to Gideon and Hotch who watched her approach. “So, the injury was fake?” Hotch asked.

“No, he really did hit me,” Piper confessed. “With a chair. I knew he’d probably hit me; didn’t think he’d do it with a chair.”

“What were you thinking?” Piper stared at the ground.

“I was thinking we needed a confession from Buford.”

“We could fire you,” Gideon said.

“My results come in at the end of the week,” Piper said, unflinching. “I’ve passed my field training. It’ll all be kinda useless if you fire me now. I’m not being sarcastic, I’m just saying, it’d be impractical.” Hotch snorted, glancing over at Gideon.

“You wanted unorthodox,” he said.

“Right, go ahead, blame me,” Gideon protested dryly. “Assaulting a federal agent is a felony.”

“Unless it’s consensual. I told him to do what he needed to do, and I’ll testify to it if it means Buford goes to jail.” Hotch sighed.

“You’re the boss,” Gideon said. “Your choice.” Hotch looked to the sky.

“I’ll admit, catching Buford out may have been impossible without Derek in play. But from here on in, you do not borrow my phone and you do not go off on your own.”

“I thought you hired me to follow my instincts,” Piper said. She knew she should take the offer as it was.

“And you can. As soon as I have you as an approved agent, you’ll be on probation.”

“I’m so in.” Piper grinned and Hotch’s mouth twitched. She took whatever she got with Hotch and watched as he clambered into the SUV with Gideon. She turned to find Derek staring at the sky. “Hey, Derek!” He turned to look at her, his pained expression still lingering in his eyes. “C’mon, I’ll drop you home.” He nodded numbly, letting Piper guide him to her SUV parked in a nearby alleyway.

* * *

Fran wasn’t the type to leave someone at the door and Piper was never one to turn down a dinner invitation. Which meant that in one night, Piper had found two more sisters, one more brother, and one more mom. This was what family was meant to be. Sarah couldn’t stop herself from telling Piper about all of her brother’s misadventures as a kid, including the Christmas Fiasco of 1994 which somehow involved an on-fire microwave, a toilet and the fire department. Desiree couldn’t contain herself as she talked about how over-protective Derek was and Piper was quick to tell them about a certain baseball incident where he had tried to correct Piper’s pitch and she’d ended up smashing the baseball into his helmet. Derek tried and failed to antagonise her, claiming she hated the Chicago Cubs, except all three ladies backed her. “After all, the LA Dodgers are much cuter.” At that point, Derek had given up, especially when Piper helped Fran make hot chocolate for everyone. They’d swapped stories and photos of Derek until he reminded Piper that she had a flight to catch, offering to drop her off at the hotel so she could join the others.

Buford’s chapter in Derek’s life was over, but Derek had the incessant worry that it wasn’t over for the team. “So, the funeral’s tomorrow?” Derek just nodded. “Gordinski swore that tape won’t be released to the public.”

“And you trust him?” Derek turned to her.

“No, but I did threaten to shoot out both his kneecaps if it does get released.” Derek let out a low chuckle. “And don’t worry about the team. Especially Penelope. It’ll stay quiet.” She glanced at her watch and told Derek that she should go, letting herself out of the SUV until he called out her name. She poked her head through the rolled down the window, leaning her forearms on the car. “What’s up?”

“You’re…You’re the best sister I could ask for,” he said slowly, and a slow warm smile spread on her face.

“You’re getting sappy on me, Der.” She stepped back, letting Derek pull away from the hotel and she waited until his car had disappeared from view. A warm feeling grew in her stomach, and it wasn’t the food and so she turned, making her way up to grab her stuff before joining the others to go home.

* * *

Derek walked a familiar path, but this time he wasn’t alone under the glinting rays of the sun that hit the trees he walked past. He had his mother by his side and both of his sisters. Their feet crunched through crisp leaves as they walked past Rodney Harris’s gang without a second glance, joining Mrs Walters, James, Gordinski and Dennison in front of the headstone he had spent so much sweat and effort to set in place. Derek’s arm was tucked around his mother’s grasp until he shifted to meet James’s hand, grasping it as Sarah placed a bouquet of yellow flowers on Damien’s grave. Derek slung both arms around his mother and James, keeping them close as he glanced at the two graves, side by side and the once empty headstone now read: “The Lost Children. You are all loved and missed. December 13, 1991.”


End file.
